Of Wrath and Reign
by SexualLemur
Summary: When her whole squadron is killed on a mission in the Sahara, Clara is sent into the world of Asgard where her fate suddenly changes from an U.S army member into a fated lover of a trapped God. Odin demands she change the heart of Loki, but the job is easier said than done when she has her own demons to destroy and another enemy lies in the shadows waiting to pounce.
1. Adapt and Overcome

**I own nothing, but Clara I suppose.**

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Blue eyes met hazel, frantic and filled with never ending fear. Her hands shook nervously behind her back. Her wrists were stained with blood from the constant struggle of breaking free from the ropes. They had been there for hours cooped up in a lone house seated in the middle of the Sahara. Their mission was supposed to be easy. Just patrolling. Going from one village to another delivery medical supplies. Routine.

Things had changed once they had crossed into Egypt. Terror groups were forming all within them Middle East and Africa so at first it was no surprise that they had met a group of hostiles. The only thing they didn't expect was the ambush from behind. She had had her sniper mounted, waiting for the call to shoot. The head of one of their captors right in the crossing of her scope. She was so close to having her heart at the slowest rate. All her focus was on the man that was out to kill them. She was doing what she was trained to do. Kill the enemy.

A hand had grabbed hold of her in a sudden moment. All she remembered was being dragged into the sand and pain just above her axis bone. Now she was in the lone house watching as each member of her squadron were killed off. There were five people to begin with and now it was down to two.

The man pointing the gun at the blue eyed man spoke loudly in Iranian. She could not for the life of her understand what he was saying. He nudged the man again, whacking him with the tip of his AK-47.

Blue eyed Mike stared defiantly up at him, and her pulse raced. Sweat dripped down her cheeks and mixed with the very few tears that dared to be shed. This was it. This was how they were going to die. They had known the dangers coming in, but she as well as Mike did not know this was going to happen to them. And she, only twenty-two would be dead within hours if not minutes.

The terrorist whacked Mike again, shouting.

"He doesn't know what you're saying!" she shouted back only the see stars cloud her vision. Blood trickled down from right above her temple, and she glanced at a gun barrel laced with blood right next to her head. Her eyes widened, and she searched Mikes for any type of plan. He was their leader. He was the one who barked orders and she obeyed. And now all she saw was a defeated man.

_Fuck_ she thought to herself. She glanced around for any possibility of escaping. There were three windows in the room she was currently in and one door that lead into a makeshift kitchen. The cement looking walls had cracks in them and she wondered if she could create a diversion that would cause them to come crashing down. If she was going to die, then these men could go down with her. She could see the stains of blood splatter on the grey walls from her fallen comrades and the smell of their rotting bodies coming from another room made bouts of nausea lurch her insides.

Her only problem was that it was a four against two odds. Four against one if one of them were killed. All men were heavily armed and she had nothing. They had frisked them all before starting the interrogation that lead the two living soldiers to this moment. All that were left on their bodies were their pants, boots, and white tank tops that were stained with dirt, blood, sands, and sweat. Their hands were bound behind their backs as they were forced to stay on their knees. The only relief on the pain shooting through their calves and quads would be death.

Her heart faulted at the sight of Mike having a barrel since of his mouth. He begged and pleaded, but his cries were not heard.

"Cla-wa," he said around the barrel. "Don' give 'em wha' they wan'!" he screamed.

The man turned to Clara and she saw a smiling gleam in his eyes as his finger pressed the trigger.

The sound was more deafening than all the others. It rippled through the small room. Blood spewed in every which way. Some landed on the walls and some on the floor, but she barely registered the sight in front of her as his blood clouded her vision. Not a sound came fro her lips. Her eyes followed his body as his crashed limply into the floor. She was the last one.

The terrorists laughed, and the leader said something to which the men followed him out of the room. They left the body there for Clara to see.

She stared into the blue eyes that were once filled with life. _Please god help me_ she pleaded.

Clara had no idea how long she stood there, but she realized she was alone. Which mean she could move. She glanced out at the door and heard laughter again. She could smell some sort of food being cooked. They were celebrating! They were celebrating their deaths and hers to come! Their culture thought of women as weak and this was to her advantage.

Quickly and quietly, she bent her back until her hands touched the grainy floor beneath her. The muscles in her legs and abs screamed in protest. Tiny rocks dug into her palms while she flipped one foot over her bound hands and then the other. She kept glancing over at the door, making sure she wasn't heard. She was stiff and even the most easy of movements were hard on her.

Once her hands were fully in front of her, she glanced around for anything she could use as a weapon. All were rocks until she saw a lone knife at the closest corner to the door. She glanced at Mike's dead body and summoned up her courage. Her heart may have been thundering about in her ears, but that didn't stop her from doing what she had to.

Clara silently crept along the wall, getting lower than the windows for the fear of another outside party watching in. She slowed her breathing. If this was going to be a success she had to calm down. She thought of all those times in snipers practice.

_Empty your mind_ she thought. Her heartbeat slowed as did her breathing. She reached out with both hands and grabbed the knife clumsily.

Sudden silence caused her to freeze. Her breath caught in her throat until the sound of more talking came to her ears. There wasn't any urgency in the voices.

It was safe, for now.

Positioning the knife in a downward angle, she maneuvered it along the ropes. As much as she wanted to go faster, Clara could not risk it.

Glancing at Mike's body, the pool of blood around his head had reached his torso. His mouth and nose were blown off completely. All that hung were tissue and bone fragments. His teeth were scattered about. But his eyes were the same. Some of the blood had impaired the pretty blues, but still she could see them.

Her wrists were free from the ropes.

With a quietly breath, she counted in her heads. This was it. If she was going to die, it was going to be at the attempt of killing these men. Knife in one hand, she touched the silver cross around her neck mentally saying a prayer.

She stared at the opposite wall, seeing a large shard of a mirror propped up against it. Her sun kissed skin was covered in fresh and crusted blood. Once in a tight bun, a dark chocolate hue of hair matted itself to the sides of her cheeks and fell down into the small of her back. Those men had played with her hair in the beginning as some sick joke of theirs. Angry hazel eyes glared at the reflection. A few cuts on her cheeks and foreheads had clotted over. Dried blood hung into her skin around the wounds.

Clara knew she was outnumbered. She knew it was an odd chance she would survive. She also knew that they underestimated her like most in her life. She was short. Five foot four and a half inches. One hundred and twenty pounds of muscle. She was small compared to them. Sometimes that could be an advantage.

_Not more stalling_ she chastised herself.

Grabbing a rock, she hesitated. With a shaking breath, she threw it into the room. Gunfire was heard and screaming. On the balls of her feet, she waited until the first of them came into the room. He gasped not noticing her until it was too late. Springing up, she brought all of her weight down onto him and punctured his aorta with her knife. She heard the choking of blood for a moment until she grabbed his AK and rolled back into the corner. Shots soon fired as the man slowly died. She was ready.

The other three men raced in and she shot. Only that particular sound was not the first to hit her earlobe. A thundering boom shook the house and she was knocked over along with the rest of the men.

When she recovered, she saw her gun pointed at an oddly dressed man with blonde hair. His red cape swayed in a nonexistent wind and she was staring directly at her. He had a hammer in his hand.

Without even a hesitation, he grabbed hold of her and she felt herself being flung into the air. She screamed as flashes of light crossed her vision and only stopped when she impacted onto a black smooth surface. It was colder wherever she was compared to the desert. She licked at her dried lips trying to stop the world from spinning.

Gun still in hand, she gazed around to find a dark man in golden armor and sword staring down at her. She stared at him in awe and he gazed back looking bored. His helmet covered most of his face, but she could see his eyes. They were like a human version of cat eyes with an orange tint to them.

Her thoughts went blank when she heard the Iranian again. Anger pulsed into her veins. Her head whipped to the sound and she saw one of them had also traveled with her.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, getting up swaying and pointing her gun at him. She shook her head to try and fix a target on him. He gazed up at her widely and yelled back at her. It was the one who had killed mike and all the others. "You-"

"Human!" bellowed a voice.

Clara turned her head angrily. "What the fuck do you want?", gazing at the blonde man.

That moment was when she finally registered that she was in fact not on Earth anymore.

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Please review and tell me if you would like me to continue. Thank you.


	2. Fate

I want to warn you that this may turn into a bit of a crossover with the Avengers. I'm looking at the Trailer for Thor 2 and have a big idea on how to make everything connect. There may be cameos of Avengers in the later chapters, but it will mostly be centered around Thor characters. However this is subjective as of now.

Please enjoy this chapter and review please. I really do appreciate feedback.

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Clara could not believe her eyes. Just by gazing at the sky, her mind went through a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. The sky was so fast and all she could see were stars and galaxies. With no moon to light up the vast abyss above her head, the stars did justice in lighting the way towards what looking like a city a few hundred feet down.

Her gaze followed down to the bridge she walked on. Her reflection rippled at the unison stomps of three guardsmen flanking her sides and back with that blonde man in the lead. She was no alone in the circle. Her hand gripped the hem of the killer that had transported with them to wherever they were, his turban and mask forgotten behind them. She had been surprised to see a man only a few years older than her behind her. His actions were one she would see as an older leader, not one just starting out.

The blonde man had offered to take him back, but her stubbornness would not allow the opportunity to off him herself. She knew he knew what her intentions were and did not seem to want to comment.

_"I'll go quietly if you let me take him."_ She had said to him. He merely nodded at the request and the guards had appeared without a moments notice. They had left the orange-eyed man on his perch which she was somewhat thankful for since she had a feeling he held some sort of power that could harm her.

The man whimpered as she drug him along with her gun pointed to his head and a limp in her step. She could see the blood on the barrel, realizing that this was indeed the gun that would have killed her if this man had not taken her to this place. However her fate here she was also ever too weary about. She could have demanded answers, but she was too shocked to form a sentence at that point. This place seemed like it was out of a storybook. The city shined just by itself a golden hue. Its architecture was one she had never seen. Sharp ends with round corners and high beams taller than any other skyscraper she had ever seen. The city looked like one big statue

The city became closer and closer into her vision and the bridge also changed form, seeping from the marble black into a smooth stone. Trees and flowers she had never seen made her breath hitch that lined the bridge and soon she wasn't on a bridge anymore but in front of a gate matching the color of the city. This is when the man stopped in front of her and she almost bumped into him. He was really tall and she felt so small circled around the muscular guards. In fact she felt like a little kid.

"You must let him go, mortal," said the blonde looking down at her in all seriousness. "This is no place for him and you are the only one welcomed here as of now."

Clara stood there, mouth pursed. She glanced up at the trembling man. "Where will he go?" she asked in a shaking voice. Phlegm was building up at her throat. She swallowed it thickly. Her anxiety was through the roof, but she was going to try her best to not show any type of weakness. She had already been broken once.

"Back to Midgard, " he replied. At her confusion, he clarified. "Earth."

Time seemed to slow at his answer and before she could think, Clara pulled the trigger to her gun. The sound was deafening, but the justification of the kill ran through her veins like a soft wave purring across the ocean. As she felt the man fall from her grasp, hands from behind ripped her back and something pulled at her right arm until the gun released from her grasp. She stared down at the now dead man with blank eyes before turning to the blonde man who stared at her with an odd expression. He must have had an idea of what happened to her prior because with a wave of his hands the arms receded and pushed her slightly.

The continued their walk, but Clara was now in a state of mind where everything seemed to blur together into a frenzy. The faces of all four men she had once called family were now flashing before her. David. Jeremy. Brandon. Victor. Mike. Each one of them bloodied and mutilated. David had it easy. He died swiftly as could be with a quick gunshot to the temple. His brain matter had splattered all of them which sent them into a fighting mass of chaos. It was short lived, however. Brandon was shot in the kneecap and Victor in the abdomen. Even with a bullet in his knee, they forced Brandon into a kneeling position. She remembered how much he had winced in pain and the sweat that had broken out upon him within minutes of the assault. Then there had been Victor. Poor Victor. His death was a slow one. As the terrorists had interrogated Jeremy first, Victor had bled out. Clara thought he was going to make it until he started coughing up the blood. She wanted to look away, but was taken by the hair and forced to watch him die. The only relief from the sight was closing her eyes tightly and trying to tune out the sounds.

Her mind went to Jeremy, but something aroused her from her thoughts. She blinked, staring at the blonde man's blue eyes. Her breathing came in gasps, the sound echoing through the crowded room they were in. Men and women in odd amour and Grecian like dresses stared down at her in concern and weariness. It was as if they didn't know how to regard her. There were even curious stares making Clara feel like an animal on display.

She had to get out of there.

Reflexes seemed to take over and before she knew it her knuckles collided with his throat. The blonde stumbled back gasping for air. Looking around, Clara made a run for it through the small gaps between people. She shoved them aside, maneuvering around guards that came her way. There were shouts called behind her, but she was so far out of it to even know what was being said. All she could think of was to survive. She let her instincts and adrenaline guide her.

A body suddenly collided with hers, their bodies tumbling to the ground. She felt armor scrape against her skin, a sting of a fresh wound in its wake. They only stopped when she was crushed against a wall with the body in tow. Though she did not let that stop her. She rolled painfully to the side, seeing a brunette woman trying to grab at her. She kicked at her arms until the clicking in her knee turned into pain. When she clutched at it for a mere second, burly hands grabbed at her torso and pulled her away from the other fighting woman.

"For a tiny…human…" said a voice as she struggled in the arms. She was soon pressed into a cold plated torso "she is a feisty one."

"Let me go!" she screamed, kicking in the air.

"Are you alright, Lady Sif?" called the voice.

Clara turned to the woman who had stopped her in her tracks. She stood up, nodding. "She fights dirty and already smells of a battlefield, but I'm find, Volstagg" she answered.

Clara stopped her kicking when the pain became too much to bear and just glared at the floor. She was having trouble catching her breath, but that wasn't surprising since her anxiety levels were already high.

"Please," she begged in a low shaking voice. "Let me go." Tears stung at her eyes at the plea, but no answer was heard for a long time.

She heard footsteps come towards her and by the red cape she knew it was the man she had throat punched. Fear tingled her skin. She was going to die now or end up badly hurt. But the large hand on the side of her cheek made her flinch away slightly. Clara shakingly fought against her terror to meet his eyes. Her terror was winning for she couldn't find the courage to even do such a simple action.

Tears flowed freely now. On her right side they dripped down her cheek, but the feeling was absent on her left where the hand was. "Pl-Please don't kill me," she pleaded in a small voice. Her breaths were coming in shallow spurts and she felt the hands around her slacken their hold. The stinging in her sinus was almost overpowering compared to the salt of her tears in the few cuts on her face.

"We did not bring you here to kill you, little mortal," came the blonde's voice.

Her eyes shot up to meet his in shock. Then what could they possibly want from her? And where was she?

"Sif, Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg come with me," said the man as he stood straight up into a rather regal looking stance. "We will escort this one to Odin."

The crowd around them parted as the six walked towards a hallway leading to a pair of doors ensheathed in gold. Columns of a rustic stone rose up on either sides of the corridor and as menacing as it may have looked in any other color, it felt welcoming in a way.

"I'm sorry," Clara blurted out suddenly as they entered the hallway. The four in front of her turned and stared. She stared at the blonde. "For punching you in the throat," she completed her thought. The doors to the corridor shut so it was only them in the area. She wiggled slightly out of Volstaggs arms, swaying a bit until she found a stance that did not hurt her knee. She feared she might have torn something.

The blonde cleared this throat. "I'm Thor."

They had kept calling her mortal. Why? She saved the question for later. "Clara."

The woman, Sif, chuckled. "We already knew your name. We've been expecting you."

Clara didn't know what to say. Was she to be surprised?

They turned, walking towards the double doors. Clara struggled to walk, glancing up at the man that must have been holding her. He had a great mane of red hair and a huge beard. He walked at her pace which was more of a saunter for him. When he offered to help, she refused as she clutched the fresh wound on her arm.

The doors opened, revealing a dimly lit throne room. The four figures in front of her parted, Thor signaling for her to walk on. She swallowed, doing her best to stand tall as she limped forward. She could hear them follow slowly behind her, but kept her gaze on a man seated atop a throne on the other side of the room. He was an older man, many years of stress and war weighing on his face. One of his eyes were covered by a patch and he took wore metallic armor like the five behind her. There was a woman too. She stood to the side of him wearing a long purple dress. Her curly hair was half up and half down. She looked worried at the sight of Clara, but did not move.

Clara stopped a few feet from the steps, not daring to meet the man's eyes. This must have been Odin.

A pair of hands startled here and she looked up to see Volstagg again. He pushed back her bad knee, helping her kneel to the ground. She hissed in pain, the sound echoing through the quiet room. She nodded a thanks and he backed away.

Odin stood from his golden throne, extending out a hand to the woman. They both descended the stairs, stopping at the base. She, again, did not meet their eyes. She was beyond scared. Her pulse hammered in her chest and she was visibly shaking. She clenched her free palm, feeling the sweatiness glide along her clasped hand.

"I am Odin, the Allfather of the Gods and ruler of Asgard. You will refer to me as Allfather and kneel in my presence until I see fit for you to stand." He voice boomed against the metal walls, causing a small ringing in her ears. There was silence for a few moments. Clara slowly raised her eyes until they were staring up at the couple. She was not sure if she was supposed to do that, but that's all her mind could comprehend. Allfather and Odin sounded familiar to her, but she could not place it where. "You may stand, Clarity," he said with a very small smile. "Thor," he gestured.

Thor was not gentle like Volstagg. When he helped her up, she felt a small rip tear into her hamstring above her injured knee. She cursed, pushing him away but this time he did not move. There was no adrenaline left in her system.

The man apologized, coughing as he did and stepping back behind her.

"Do you know why you're here?" asked Odin.

Clara stared at him as if he were crazed. "No," she answered breathlessly from the pain. "In fact, I'm starting to believe I'm either dead or under sedation." This all seemed so unreal. It was unreal! Nothing made sense.

"You are very much alive," said the woman. "And safe." She smiled warmly, but Clara did not return the gesture.

There was silence. "Why am I were?" Clara asked, turning to the five members behind her and back at the ruling couple. "Where am I?"

Odin answered. "You are in Asgard. That is as much as I will say for now given that we have more important matter to discuss." He paused, a saddening look in his eye as if he were about to deliver bad news. "You have been chosen by fate to become the lover and betrothed of my son."

Clara stood there, stunned. Her stomach clenched up tightly, heart racing. She felt the anxiety coming back into her system. She stepped back on her bad leg by accident, falling to the floor in a shaking heap. Sif came to help, but Clara scooted back. "Get the fuck away from me!" she shouted causing the taller woman to stop. "You're all crazy. You're all so fucking crazy! Take me home! Take me home! Now!" she screamed at the woman.

"Enough!" bellowed Odin causing Clara to clamp her mouth shut. The God stormed over to her, pointing his staff at her. She whimpered in both pain and fear. "You have no choice in this matter. This is a matter of life and death for my son and if you can change his heart then by the Gods you will!" She feared to move. "You have been chosen by fate, mortal! You hold the power to help us! You should feel honored you were chosen for such task!" His eyes softened. "You must," he seemed to plead. "You must do what is asked of you."

Clara stared down at the staff then back at him. She did no say a word. Her mind went blank, completely blank. Her muscles were stuck in her current position, shaking. Swear and tears poured down her face. She was a prisoner then. Not someone sentenced to death.

Odin stood straight. "Frigga, have her prepared. We take her to him tomorrow night."

Clara finally summoned her voice. "Who?" she breathed.

Thor stepped forward. "Loki, my brother."

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